Everybody Hates Bob Kraft

Drew Magary’s Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday at Defector during the NFL season Got something you wanna contribute? Email the Roo. You can also read Drew over at SFGATE, and buy Drew’s books while you’re at it.

I should never find myself in a position where I’m forced to cheer on Macklemore. In fact, we’re so far removed from Macklemore’s brief moment of cultural relevance that I shouldn’t even be forced to remember that this guy is even alive. Sometime around 2013, the whole world asked the hip-hop artist to mackle less, and he obliged (likely not of his own free will). That was a happy occasion. Alas, I now must demand that someone besides the artist born as Ben Haggerty mackle less, and that person is Patriots owner and bargain handjob enthusiast Robert Kraft.

You’ve perhaps heard about Kraft’s latest venture into senile billionaire fuckery, but I’ll give you the skinny just in case. British folk hobbit Ed Sheeran is doing a stadium tour of the U.S.—this is its own cultural crisis, but that’s for another rant—and booked Macklemore as one of his opening acts. This Normiepalooza tour was due to go off without a hitch (or a memorable hook) until, according to Macklemore, Kraft took umbrage with the rapper’s vocal support of Palestine during his opening set for Sheeran at Giants Stadium earlier this month.

Kraft is the man behind the Blue Square Alliance nonprofit group, which purports to combat antisemitism but is openly affiliated with Jonathan Greenblatt’s Anti-Defamation League: a pro-Trump, pro-Elon, pro-Netanyahu outfit that exists mainly to blur the distinction between people who oppose Israel’s occupation of Gaza and actual antisemites. He also leads "mission trips" to Israel, in which he brings current and former NFL players into the country so they can hang out with the IDF. Sheeran's tour is scheduled to stop at the Patriots' stadium next weekend, and Kraft isn’t the type of fella to simply stand on the sideline and risk seeing Macklemore utter the words, “free Palestine” on HIS stage, at HIS stadium. So Macklemore claims that Kraft ordered him off of Sheeran’s tour. Sheeran meekly complied, only to watch as the artists underneath him on the bill, including members of his own band, peaced out on the tour in support of Macklemore. OOPITY DAISY!

This is how a full-blown PR crisis, which Kraft is handling the only way any billionaire knows how: by throwing the barest fraction of his wealth at the problem, and issuing a statement more empty than the feeling inside of Drake Maye’s stomach after throwing three picks in Seattle:

What donation did Sheeran make? To whom did he make it? Which region is “the region” here? What does Bob Kraft believe is the specific humanitarian crisis in question? What kind of aid will this money go toward? Did Kraft actually SPEND said money? Couldn’t he have posted a screenshot of a receipt alongside all of that meaningless copy? How do I know he didn’t just spend that money to have a servant lick caviar off his balls?

In a post-shame America, a cursory bit of damage control is often more than enough for those in power to wait out the news cycle before going back to their greedy, miserable lives. But one thing about owning an NFL team is that, when you welcome the spotlight in such a manner, that spotlight stays on you. So everyone knows when you’ve decided to visit the ol’ rub-n-tug, or when you cavort with the most notorious child sex criminal of the 21st century, or when you offer up your team’s charter plane to the Trump administration. We have a record on you now Bobby, and it’s only getting longer.

I used to think I disliked the New England Patriots because of their dipshit ex-coach, their insufferable fans, and their weirdo Hall of Fame quarterback. Oh, but how I misled myself. Nope, the REAL reason to wish these Patriots ill is because of the frog-voiced asswipe blithely using his stadium, and his NFL franchise by extension, as a cudgel against anyone he deems to be beneath him. When you stoop this low, it’s no wonder that Macklemore ends up looking like a hero by comparison. What a piece of trash Bob Kraft is. Fuck him, and fuck his team eternally.

The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Lions at Bills: The game of the week, and it’s on a Thursday night?! How is that possible? Shouldn’t TNF be reserved exclusively for AFC South teams outfitted in their worst possible alt uniforms? Well, apparently Jeff Bezos threw enough of a hissy fit that the NFL decided to gift Amazon a few watchable games for Prime’s TNF slate. Now we get to see if this otherwise excellent matchup will suck ass anyway because of the Thursday element. A fascinating experiment.

Four Throwgasms

Giants at Rams: I was so in on the Giants being bad this year that I’m a bit angry they looked presentable while kicking the shit out of Dallas on Sunday night. But I’m not THAT worried. Dallas always underachieves, and Jaxson Dart will get his head caught in the garbage disposal any day now.

Three Throwgasms

Bengals at Texans: I was in the kitchen with my son as they were getting ready for school the other morning. The 17-year-old was wearing jeans. The 14-year-old looked at him, snickered, and said, “You look like a millennial.” That’s right: millennials are boomers now. I’m gonna go check myself into a nursing home.

Colts at Chiefs: We have until the newly invented Thanksgiving Eve before there’s another game on Netflix. So I have a suggestion for Netflix brass on how to best use their time over the next two months: FIX YOUR FUCKING RECORDING ABILITIES. I couldn’t watch Rams-49ers live because of family commitments, so I checked a button on the Netflix menu that said, “add to my stuff.” I wake up the next morning, I open up Netflix, toggle over to MY STUFF, and is the game sitting in there, waiting for me? It sure as fuck is NOT. Instead, I had to watch a replay of the game that had aired on NFL Network in the middle of the night. To avoid having the game I was watching spoiled in media res, I had to manually cover up NFLN’s score crawl using a series of very small books that I’d lined up underneath my TV.

The game ended up being a rout, but that’s not the point here. It’s the fucking principle, dammit. It’s 2026, Netflix. I should not have to live like this. I should not have to sit here like a chump and pray that a multibillionaire dollar, Oscar-winning media company will understand how to properly implement DVR technology that was invented 27 fucking years ago. Amazon Prime’s recording interface is also dogshit, but at least it saves a game when I ask it to. What’s your excuse, Netflix? Did you get $10 off your rights fees by agreeing to only show games live? Did the money you could have invested in easy DVRing go to production on some awful Gal Gadot vehicle instead? I swear to God if you people don’t have this sorted by November, I WILL END YOU.

Vikings at Bears: I fear Caleb Williams now that he has a mustache. That’s no teenage weed dealer mustache our man is sporting. That’s a real deal, 1975-style mustache. No wonder he can throw 59 points up on the scoreboard now without breaking a sweat. They say this man is a bad motherf—SHUT YOUR MOUTH!

Steelers at Patriots: It’s Week Zero of the college football season and I turn on the first game on the schedule, because I am biologically engineered to fill every open crevice of my autumn with football, even when it’s still 125 degrees outside. Anyway, I’m watching this game (don’t remember the teams, and it doesn’t really matter) and I’m getting into it real proper. When the QB throws the ball a mile past his intended receiver, I shout, “That’s an AWFUL throw!” When the coach calls for a run on second-and-10, I shout, “What are you doing, man?” When the color guy tells me that one of the programs involved in this game is “storied,” I say back to him, “Who the fuck are you kidding, buddy?”

My 17-year-old son is on the couch next to me. He’s not watching the game, because he doesn’t care about football. He’s just doing his usual phone shit when he suddenly goes, “Dad.”

“What?”

“Can you not talk to the TV?”

Excuse me? Whose house is this, boy? Who paid for that TV? Was it you? SPOILER ALERT: It was not. That was your father who provided such necessities. And in this house, we believe that yelling at the TV during football season is a right, and not merely a privilege. What am I supposed to do all game long? Stay silent for three straight hours, like I’m in church? Acknowledge the fact that the people on my TV can’t hear me? What kinda psycho shit is that?

Commanders at Cowboys

Seahawks at Cardinals

Jaguars at Broncos

Packers at Jets

Two Throwgasms

Dolphins at 49ers: You’re an NFL player who just made a clutch reception/PBU/first down. What do you do now? I’ll tell you what you do: you assume The Stance.

This is the official triumph stance of virtually every NFL starter. After the play is finished, you must stand up tall and cross your arms in front of your puffed chest, as if to say, “My work here is done.” If you’ve just forced a turnover, you and your fellow defenders must run over to the end zone and assume the stance together, like a construction site crew turned dance troupe. This is what happens when the NFL outlaws all other forms of taunting.

Saints at Ravens

Panthers at Falcons

One Throwgasm

Eagles at Titans: The Titans’ longest play from scrimmage against the Jets last week was 14 yards. Now they have to play a real football team. Mitch Trubisky is gonna end up starting a dozen games for these poor fuckers.

Raiders at Chargers: I recently started getting ads for a lower-tier sportsbook called Novig on my phone, featuring Sydney Sweeney lasciviously enticing bettors to burn their money with a company that, surprise surprise, she has an ownership stake in. Turns out that the Novig website features a longform ad that consists pretty much entirely of a topless Sweeney wearing different sports outfits. The ad succeeded in triggering its own news cycle, featuring takes like this undeniably strange one from the WaPo’s Monica Hesse:

Sweeney is an American actress best known in the cinematic world for her role on “Euphoria,” best known in the marketing world for already starring in one controversial ad campaign, and best known in the physical realm for possessing what can only be described as a truly stunning chest.

Last year I went into a screening of The Housemaid not understanding why people were obsessed with her, and then there was a naked scene and I understood better than I have ever understood anything in my life.

I know that the Washington Post is now hopelessly compromised by a chauvinist administration, and I know that Hesse’s gender gives her freer rein to publish this kind of copy. But it’s still pretty surprising to see a WaPo columnist using up multiple paragraphs to say, Goddamn, look at the melons on this chick! If I were doing a hot take on Sydney Sweeney, I’d probably focus more on the fact that she starred in an ad campaign that was a white supremacist dog whistle. Or that she’s using her assets to lure horny teens into burning their parents’ life savings. Or that she dates Scooter Braun, because a truly stunning chest still can’t buy you class. Those are useful Syd Sweeney takes. Acknowledging that she’s hot, which is more than self-evident, is less of an imperative.

To that end, Monica: did you REALLY need to see that woman fully naked to understand her appeal? What are you, 3 years old? Fucking idiot.

Browns at Bucs

This Week On All Ball

Arif Hasan and I are hitting an early stride with our new NFL podcast. We’ve moved your questions to the front of the show, added timestamps to the episode summary (only by timeslot, but still more guidance than listeners got for the premiere), and took special notice of Cris Collinsworth’s increasing ability to keep his analysis divorced from the game that you and I are watching alongside him. Tell your football fan friends that there’s a new NFL podcast in town, and it makes all of the other NFL podcasts sound like a hippo with diarrhea.

Pregame Song That Makes Me Wanna Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

“Cut You Off,” by C.O.F.F.I.N. Featuring a drummer who also sings lead vocals! The two-dollar bill of rock band members! From Chris:

Here's an absolutely feral Australian punk/hard rock ripper. Gotta love a singing drummer playing on the hardtop of a boat then throwing the drum set off a cliff into a lake. Bonus points for the acronym band name that they fully admit is absolute nonsense (Children of Finland Fighting in Norway).

I would watch a movie about Finnish children fighting wars in Norway. Let’s get Robert Eggers on that.

Get In Shape With Dr. Cam Skattebo, A.S.U.!

“One of the biggest myths about concussions is that they’re bad for everyone. But in fact research shows that, for some patients, a concussion can actually beneficial, as the accumulation of scar tissue can help protect the brain from further trauma. My buddy Jaxson Dart here represents one such case.”

“There is a sea monster in this room with us, Boo. He’s not moving yet but I can see him waiting in the corner, his tentacles coiled and ready to lash out. We should not be here. We should leave. Can you feel the leviathan in here with us? Can you smell rancid oils emanating from his coarse flesh?”

“Let’s get you a sandwich, brother.”

Fire This Asshole!

Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we’ll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year’s end or sooner. And now, your potential 2026 chopping block:

-Dave Canales

-Todd Monken

-Brian Schottenheimer

-Jim Harbaugh

-Shane Steichen*

-Aaron Glenn

-Todd Bowles*

-Dan Quinn*

-Kellen Moore

-Robert Saleh

(*potential midseason firing)

I fully expect Jim Harbaugh to bail on the Chargers for USC sometime around November.

Gameday Cookin’ Corner

This week reader Dylan presents his recipe for the “best” chicken parmesan. Given that I’ve never had a bad chicken parm, his boast probably isn’t too far from the truth. Take it away, Dylan.

Love the new recipe feature. Here's one that's been keeping my wife and me fed for a while now. 

A Recipe for the Best Chicken Parmesan

Ingredients:

-Enough vegetable oil or other high smoke point cooking oil to fill the bottom ⅛ inch of the biggest frying/saucepan you have. 

-4 Chicken Breasts or 6 boneless, skinless thighs (Breasts are more traditional, thighs have a little more flavor.) 

-⅔ cup All-Purpose flour

-2 eggs

-⅔ cup Panko bread crumbs (may need more)

-Shredded Parm, to taste (Fresh from a block is the best, but you can get the pre-shredded if you want.) 

-Flakey salt, to taste

-Regular salt and pepper

-1 cup marinara sauce (you can make your own, or just get it from a jar. I don’t care! Do whatever you want!)

-1 cup shredded low-moisture mozzarella (Fresh from a block is the best, but you can get the pre-shredded if you want.)

-A few basil leaves

Put the oil into the widest bottom pan you have, preferably something with a higher lip. You’re not deep frying these, so you don’t want the chicken to be submerged, just like half-covered in oil. Turn on the heat to medium-high. 

While the oil is heating up, prep your chicken. If you’re using breasts, butterfly them and then separate the two halves. If using thighs, skip this step. 

Take your chicken and pound it flat with a mallet. It should be no more than a ¼-½ inch thick. 

After your chicken has been flattened, take out three plates/bowls. Arrange the plates in a line perpendicular to the stove if possible. In the bowl farthest away from the stove, place the all-purpose flour. Add a bit of salt and pepper, as well as a bit of the shredded parm and mix. In the middle bowl, crack the two eggs and add a dash of water. Mix with a fork until the yolks are fully combined. In the bowl closest to the stove, add the panko crumbs. 

By this point, your oil should be ready, but you’ll still need to check. To do this, take a small pinch of the flour and put it in the oil. If it immediately bubbles, it’s good to go. If the oil is bubbling on its own, it’s too hot. If it doesn’t bubble when you place the flour in the oil, it’s not ready. 

If you have a wire cooling rack, get it out and put it over a tray. Place it on the opposite side of the stove as the bowls, if possible. Once the oil is ready, take a piece of chicken and dredge it in the flour. Make sure the entire piece is coated. Shake off the excess and place it in the egg wash. After shaking off the excess, put it into the panko. After a final shake, place it into the oil. If you really want to go above and beyond, you can do this with all your chicken ahead of time, but I usually bread as I go. 

Place as many pieces of the breaded chicken as you can fit into the oil without them touching each other. You’ll probably be only able to fit two or three. Flip them after 3-4 minutes, or whenever the bottom is a nice brown. Cook the other side for 3-4 minutes or until it’s a nice and toasty brown. 

Place the finished chicken on the wire rack/paper towels. Repeat until all the chicken is done. You might have to wait a second or two between the rounds of chicken to make sure the oil is back up to temp. 

Once the chicken is done, top the chicken with a little of the flaky salt and some more of the parm. Note: The chicken is totally fine to eat now if you want. Put it in a sandwich with some katsu sauce and a little coleslaw or just eat it on its own! It’s great.

Turn your broiler. Take the chicken off the cooling rack and put it on an oven-proof tray. Cover the breasts with whatever marinara sauce you’re using. Place some of the shredded mozz on top. Put the tray under the broiler until the mozz is melted and a little brown. Probably 3-5 minutes. Serve with garlic bread and a nice Caesar salad, or make a sandwich out of it, or serve it with pasta and some roasted broccoli. All great ideas. 

Indeed they are. Dredging meat is a true pain in the ass, but usually worth it.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Crazy Brewski Imperial Pils! From Shane!

While browsing my favorite local bottle shop, this wild sight caught my eye. The label featuring a crazed Latvian in a coon-skin cap with dirty knuckles and smoking a joint? Sold me right away. And at a skull-splitting 15% ABV for only $3.69, I had to know what this contained.

I decided to crack it open at the start of a Cowboys/Eagles kickoff game. I knew when it poured out with no head or visible carbonation, that I was in trouble. It’s murky, copper color was unlike any Pilsner I’ve ever seen. It tasted like caramel-flavored malt liquor with hints of motor oil. The label claims it is, “naturally fermented” but there was nothing natural about the flavor. I only managed a few gulps before setting it aside. I knew that if I drank it all, I would end up spitting on my wife; or maybe the cat.

Coward. You weren’t crazy enough to handle the crazy brewski!

Gameday Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

Crime 101. Between this and Lucky on Apple Plus, it’s been a promising year for the Dumb Michael Mann film genre. That genre used to begin and end with Den of Thieves (and not Den of Thieves 2), but now I’ve got other adequate-but-incredibly-well-cast L.A. crime dramas to choose from! A miracle.

Speaking of miracles, did you know that Nick Nolte is still alive? He is, just like Macklemore! And he’s in this movie! The second Nolte showed up on screen, I was like, “Whoa hold up, Nick Nolte didn’t die?!” Reader, as of this writing, he has not. And he still has great taste in airplane movie scripts. Three stars.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote

“Have you been drinking?”

“No! Well, 10 beers.”

Enjoy the games, everyone.